Flash PhotographyA Poem by Pen The WillowsMy family was
happy then, that June day
posing underneath a great green
sycamore tree right in the
center of town. We laughed and
smiled and dammed-up tear
creeks, glad in our
reunion but somber in the face of
our parting. We were younger,
healthier, more innocent,
more full of life. We were all so
sure that we would
flourish, growing older, bigger,
kinder, smarter.
(Brothers and
sisters, mothers and
fathers, sons and
daughters, grandfathers and
grandmothers, grandsons and
granddaughters, aunts and
uncles, nephews and
nieces and cousins. So many titles
for only twelve people.)
We didn’t comprehend
that life can change
almost instantaneously, lightning-eyed
fast, blink and you just
might miss it. We couldn’t
fathom that some among us would
transform, mutate into
someone sick, thin,
lackluster, incapable.
No one could
know that one month later my mother would
spend five weeks perpetually
asleep in a hospital, or that two years
later, she would no
longer retain every one of her
original parts as she was so
proud to claim. No one could
know that my uncle, a vibrant lawyer
with a full career ahead of him,
would soon be confined to a
motorized wheelchair, slowly
deteriorating until he could no longer
hug his children or kiss his wife or be seen as
anything other than
completely helpless.
How could we
have envisioned any
of this, with a daylight-spotlight swaddling us in
warmth in this
twinkle-in-our-eyes Kodak-moment
snapshot of the Good Old
Days? Back when everything was
halcyon and golden? Back
when the entire
universe was an oyster, ready
to turn the mundane sand
of our lives into lustrous
cultured pearls of
promise?
How could we
have pictured the sepia that
would bleed in over
two years, the grayscale
after three years, the
black-and-white in four? We couldn’t have
conceived it. We couldn’t have
developed such a picture
in the amber-tinted
darkrooms deep in our
souls.
Instead, we
gathered together in the park on
that polaroid of a
summer day. We laughed and
reminisced and loved and dreamed our
dreams in sun-drenched
yellows, crisp-sky blues, heart-song reds.
All the while,
gathered together as we were, my
family was perfectly unaware and
unprepared for the
realization of the future
before us. Ignorant of the
truth that we were
overexposed, that the
paparazzi of our lives were poised to
delete our images, ready to move on to the Next Big
Thing. © 2015 Pen The Willows |
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Added on December 1, 2015 Last Updated on December 1, 2015 AuthorPen The WillowsWAAboutI'm 18 years old and I'm in my sophomore year of college. Most of the writings archived on here are from when I was in middle school and high school, and they aren't really very good. I wasn't going t.. more..Writing
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